Your Refuge
by Shadow131
Summary: (Sequel to Your Rapture) When Guardian Angels get sparce, the ghost of Javert is selected to be a temporary Angel - a duty he niether likes, nor wants. But a blind child named Abigail will soon have him whistling a different tune.
1. The Memories You Never Tell

**Your Refuge: Chapter One: The Memories You Never Tell**

Javert was awoken by someone nudging him in the ribs.

"Javert! Javert! Wake up!" Cosette hissed at him, and with a snort, he jolted up, his eye lids coming just barely open. He became more fully awake when he noticed the other souls turned around in their seats and glaring at him. He hunkered down in his seat and pretended to be invisible.

"You were snoring," Cosette told him.

"Wasn't," he contradicted with a yawn, whipping away the small line of drool that had escaped his slack jaw as he had dozed. He then rubbed his eyes. "Is the Weekly Meeting over with yet."

"No." She needn't have actually told him that, for St. Peter was still jabbering on, so Javert had gathered for himself that it had not yet ended.

"Good Lord, do they never shut up?"

"Shh!" came the scolding whispers around him. The only reason Marius, Valjean, and Fantine weren't at the Weekly Meeting – though they'd loathed to miss it – was because Heaven was trying to operate as normally as possible, and that left them on miracle duty.

"Javert! This is a state of emergency! Don't you think you can stop being snide for at least it?"

The reason that Heaven wasn't functioning normally was for sudden lack of Guardian Angels. Way, way, way too many had retired, and there hadn't been time to make new ones, and there wouldn't be time unless they found someone to temporarily replace them.

"No," he responded with a yawn, slumping in his seat. "I'm bored."

"Good, now shut up!" Cosette missed Marius terribly – Lord, they were together every minute of everyday! - and Javert had slowly been wearing on her nerves.

Javert snorted at her, and chose to ignore her all together.

"....And so, good creatures of Heaven!" St. Peter called. "It is up to you! We must all band together in order for the living down below us to thrive!" There were several enthusiastic cheers about this, and Javert merely crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Is there anyone opposed to making some of the ghosts of Heaven temporary Guardian Angels?"

Javert really, really wanted to raise his hand, but knew he'd be glared at for being the only one, so he had to sit on his hands to keep himself from doing it.

"Very well! The lists of the chosen shall be posted within the hour!" cried the absolutely glowing saint.

...

"So what were you going to do today?" Javert asked Cosette after the meeting was over as they strolled down one of Heaven's avenues, the former kicking absent-mindedly at a rock.

"I dunno. Probably read a book I guess."

"Oh," he responded, disappointed.

"Why? What did you want to do?" she asked him.

"Well, I was thinking of going down to earth, seeing Brianna-"

"You mean seeing Emily."

"Shut up!" he snapped. He hated it when they guessed what he really meant.

On a serious note, Cosette looked at him. "You've been acting very depressed lately."

"I'm just tired."

She stopped him, and he lost sight of the pebble. "You're not still having nightmares are you?"

"What? No, of course not," he said, sighing and brushing a hand through his hair.

"Are you being honest?"

"Well I can't bloody well be dishonest, now can I?" he said, irritated.

"Just asking."

"Why can't you guys just ever take my word for it?"

"Why can't you just stop pretending that you don't care about anyone?"

He glared, his cover up for pouting, and slumped against the wall of a building. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on, don't act childish."

"I am not!"

"Are so."

"Not!"

"So!"

"Stop!" he shouted. "See? You drag me into it, that's all."

"Sure I do," she said sarcastically. "If you wanna go down to Earth so bad, why don't you just go down? I mean, it's not like there's a law against it."

He grumbled something inaudible.

"What was that?" she teased.

"I don't like going alone!" he said aloud, getting red in the face.

"Awww.... Admit it; you enjoy our company."

"Yeah right," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Besides, I wouldn't go down there today if I were you."

"Why not? What's happening today?"

"The posting, Javert! Weren't you at all paying attention?"

"Oh. Guess not."

"What if your name comes up on the list?"

"Mon Dieu, that's the last thing I need."

Cosette stuck her nose into the air, privately insulted. "Well, I wouldn't mind being a Guardian Angel. Just for a while."

"Yeah, it's loads of fun," he said sarcastically. "Taking care of a spoiled, snot nosed little brat who throws temper tantrums ever two minutes."

"You're not one much for kids, are you?" she asked him, worried about him. She was always worried about him. Damn it, why couldn't people just leave him alone? Why did they have to care so damn much.

"No," he stated plainly.

And then they walked on in silence for a while, walking to the street that lead down to their separate houses. Finally, hating the silence, Cosette asked "So where do you think they'll post it?"

"Post what?"

"The list for who's on Guardian Angel duty!" she shouted exasperatedly.

"Oh. I don't have the faintest clue in the world."

"You're no help."

"Nope," he said proudly. He then lifted his head up from the bug he'd been watching when he heard a crowd.

"Well, looks like it's found us," said Cosette, clapping her hands gleefully.

Javert groaned. "Oh no.... Come on, let's just keep going."

"No way! What if one of us was chosen?"

"Heaven forbid that be the case!"

"Javert!"

They hadn't a choice now, for one of the other souls had seen them. "Oh, Cosette! Isn't it marvelous! Frank's been chosen to be a Guardian Angel!" one cried, snagging Cosette by the arm and dragging her up to the poll where one of the angels had just nailed the list. Cosette got a good look at it and saw that her name wasn't on it. However, she did spy another name, and covered her mouth with her hand.

"What is it?" Javert asked her, pushing his way through the crowd to see. She shook her head and pointed. Javert nearly fainted.

His name was up there.

...

To keep himself from fainting, he had snagged Cosette's arm and dragged her out of the crowd, heading for the nearest coffee shop.

Having been a snuff fiend in life, he would have like to have been allowed to at least smoke a cigarette, but those were strictly contraband. You could go down on earth and smoke 'em, but try bringing a pack back up to heaven and it simply incinerated in your hand.

Javert could just picture himself chain smoking them: light, puff, another. Light, puff, another.

But instead of tobacco, he went for the only thing in heaven he really enjoyed: coffee. They finally reached the front of the line, and Javert slammed his hands down on the counter. "Coffee. Black," he said, breathlessly, pale as, well, as a ghost.

"Make it decaf," Cosette told the Seraphim cashier.

Javert glared at her. "Regular."

"Decaf; you need to cut back."

"This is my crisis!"

"And I say you're drinking decaf!"

Javert ran a hand through his hair. "Look," he told the cashier, "if you make it regular I'll....give you a hug." Everyone in heaven was just nutty about hugs. Javert couldn't stand them; the supreme sacrifice.

"I'll give you five," Cosette countered.

"Damn!" Javert shouted, knowing he'd never do that.

"And we have a winner," the Seraphim said, accepting his five hugs, and handing Javert the coffee cup. He glared at the two of them and then down at the coffee cup. Wincing, he chugged it, and grumbled as he walked out of the coffee place.

...

"They can't make me do it!" he shouted insolently as Cosette led him home; duty didn't start till tomorrow.

She snorted. "Please, I think the Alpha and Omega, Creator of Heaven and Earth can force you to go on Guardian Angel duty."

Javert grumbled; he hated it when she was right. He wondered where he could get some wine. He'd seen angels offer it to God, so he knew it wasn't contraband. Of course, as Cosette said, God could do whatever He wanted, so anything contraband was available to Him if He so desired. But all the same, Javert really, really felt like getting absolutely stoned.

"Are you listening to me?" Cosette asked him.

"What?" he asked, snapping out of his thoughts.

"I said it's getting late and you should go home and go to bed. You'll need to get up early tomorrow."

Javert desperately wanted to argue, but couldn't after a great yawn escaped his mouth.

"Right," he agreed, and when they came to a fork in the road, Javert walked down the left side to his house, and Cosette the right to her and Marius'.

...

P.O.V

Javert

Heaven

Present Day: 2006

One of the Guardian Angel Temps shoves me off his shoulder, because apparently, I'd slumped against it and began to go to sleep. "Come on, Javert, wake up!" he encourages. "You don't want to be groggy on your first day!"

The truth is, I want to be in bed, first day or no. I slept terribly last night because of a nightmare. It's been quite a while since I'd had one of those..... Shivering as a tingling sensation runs down my spine, I yawn and straighten myself out. Right. I can do this.

"Alright recruits. This is going to be your first day, but I have complete faith in you!" a Guardian Angel – a real one, not one of us knock offs – tells us. Going down the line, he puts on us the most fake and fluffy looking wings I've ever seen. I mean really corny. These are followed by a halo. I got the bad one – it slumps to the side of my head. The others puff up with pride while I just roll my eyes. Saluting us, he turns, pushes a button, and the cloud floor beneath us vanishes.

I give a small gasp in surprise and feel a gust of wind surround me. Well, we might be "Guardian Angels," but we're still ghosts, heart and soul. Instead of the plummeting feeling I normally have, I realize my wings are slowing my descent so that it's calm and surreal. The halo has slumped so that it's merely hooked onto one of my now black ears.

I feel a sudden rage at the phoniness of all this. Who do they think they're kidding? We're no angles (A.N.: Yes, that is a line stolen from the greatest movie ever! The Greatest Movie Ever is We're No Angels. You really must see it.). Sitting in your garage won't make you a Cadillac (A.N.: And that line is stolen from Garrison Keeler), and sticking wings on a dog won't make him an Angel from Heaven. Angrily, I rip the halo off my head, and struggle with the wings for a bit, going into free fall. Finally, they're off, and I'm plummeting toward the ground. Good. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it respectably as myself.

I'm going to do this right.

The other "angels" around me have these terrible shocked looks on their faces and are looking at each other as though they ought to do something about it. Too late. We're on Earth, in New York City, and I look just like any other ghost.

That is, until a sudden gust of wind knocks me down.

"If you think getting rid of the uniform gets rid of the job, you're sadly mistaken Monsieur L' Inspector!"

It's the Holy Spirit, and a private gale is howling in my ears. I manage to cover them with my paws, but His voice still rings out. "Now you do this, and you do it right, or so help me I'll send you straight to Hell, no matter what!"

"Not doing it hadn't crossed my mind!" I try and protest. It stops momentarily.

"Very well then. Go left. There'll be a light. Just follow it, and it'll take you to the apartment of the little girl you're to be Guarding."

I get up and brush myself off and notice all the other "angels" are staring at me. "Javert, are you alright?" the one that I had been leaning on earlier asks.

I shake myself like a wet dog – ignoring the fact that I am a dog – and answer "Me? I'm fine! Why should anything be wrong?" I ask ever so smoothly.

They're not buying it, it's obvious, but decide to ignore me and find their children. Giving myself another shake, I decide to do the same, and look to the left. There is a light, not surprisingly, and it glows a faint purple hue. Following it, I walk on, hoping for the best.

...

It's really a nice apartment complex. The people here aren't exactly Bill Gates, but it's obvious that they do have one thing in common with him: money and lots of it. Still, being inside the building won't narrow down where I need to go, will it?

Apparently that's already done for me. The complex immediately stops glowing. All I need to do is follow the path that is. I walk calm as a breeze through the lobby, and up into the stair well. Another fifteen minutes is spent climbing up stairs, and I'll be grateful when I know which room it is so I can just jump the roof tops and glide through the window.

Finally, huffing and puffing, I reach the last stair I need to climb and walk out – through, really – the door, and down the glowing purple road until I reach apartment 17C. Walking through this door, I find my trail is not yet ended, for it winds through the house, down a hall, and to yet another door.

Nudging it open, it creaks slightly, and a little girl turns to look at me, her blonde head of hair flying behind her. She's sitting on the wood floor, playing with a few toys in the lavish room. Why would a kid like this need a Guardian Angel?

She begins to grin, her teeth a pearly white, her dark blue eyes sparkling. "Oh, hello! How are you! My name's Abigail, what's yours?"

That just about knocks me out! I've never, ever, ever been seen before in broad daylight without the use of Devine Intervention, aka a miracle.

"What?" I ask her.

"I said," she repeats "My name is Abigail. What is yours? I've never met a talking dog before! Oh, this is fun!"

I blink again. "You can see me?"

"Of course I can!" she says proudly. "It's very nice, because I haven't seen anything for a long time. In fact, I can see everything in this little cloud around you. So _that's _the color that daddy painted the wall last June!"

I still stand there. "Are you a medium?" I ask her.

"A what?" she questions, puzzled.

"A medium. It's like a physic. They can see things that others can't. Like the future, or... a ghost."

"Oh," she said simply, and then plainly answered "No."

"Then how can you-" but I don't finish what I was going to say. I suddenly take a closer look at her eyes, at all the things in the room.

She has a bookshelf, only the books have bumps on the spine instead of words. There's a few padded places where sharp edges could hurt if someone couldn't see them. On her dresser lies a pair of sunglasses, and in the corner rests a white cane.....

"Are you alright?" she asks me personably.

She is totally blind.

**To Be Continued......**


	2. You Fell

**Your Refuge: Chapter Two: You Fell**

"I'm sorry I had to leave you so early last time," Javert said, his tail softly brushing against the floor as he walked around Abigail's room, sniffing a thousand memories.

"It's alright," said the child happily. "You were busy. I understand."

Javert had not been busy. He'd been frightened out of his mind. He'd stayed as long as necessary to reassure the child that he would return, and then bolted out of there as if the devil were at his heels.

But then, Javert remembered far too many brushes with the devil to be certain that he wasn't.

"You hadn't told me she was blind!" he had snapped at the Holy Spirit.

"You hadn't asked," He said, and Javert could just feel his blood boil. Of course, the Holy Spirit had been quite nervous at the idea of ghosts becoming Guardian Angels, especially Javert, so he was following everyone disguised as a falcon. It hadn't taken Javert very long to realize that the Peregrine Falcon sitting across on another window ledge was keeping a rather obsessive watch on him, so he naturally deduced who it was.

"Javert, who named you that?" the little child asked him, her blind eyes following him as he walked.

The black dog – more demonic than angelic – paused. "It's my family's name."

"Like a last name?" she asked.

He nodded, but forgot she was blind, and almost said yes aloud, when she reminded him that she could see him. Her voice took on such pride when she said these things. Javert could just imagine her boasting to whatever friends she had. "Yes, that's right! I can see him!" It was silly, but then, to be able to do something that you never could.....

"How long have you been blind, Abigail?" he asked her suddenly.

"But you're my guarding angel. Shouldn't you know?"

Crud.

"Well, I do, but it.... It sounds so much more interesting when you tell it," he quickly whipped up, trying to pass it off as debonairly as possible, even flashing a somewhat debonair smile. Which the child could appreciate, for she could see him.

"I don't remember exactly," she said, as detachedly as one talks about the weather. "Sometimes I remember seeing things. Daddy said it happened when I was about one."

"And how old are you now?"

She gave him another funny look.

"Really, I do know, I just.... Want to hear it from you," he lied. Ah, the advantages of being on earth; he could lie again.

"I'll be five in a few months. Then, I can start kindergarten! Daddy says if I do really well and am careful, he might let me go to school with all the other children."

"You've never been to school before?"

"Not really. Not even pre-school. If mommy and daddy couldn't teach me something, they hired me a private tutor."

"But..... weren't you lonely?"

She sank against the large fluffy blue pillow she sat upon on the floor. "Yes," she said quietly. "But I won't be anymore. You're here!" the little girl said gleefully.

Javert sat, and smiled slightly, just watching her, studying this strange, strange child.

"I didn't know Guardian Angels were dogs," she said, reaching her hands out, beckoning him closer so she could pet him and feel him, for her hands were her eyes, even if she could see the black dog.

Javert felt a twinge of guilt, for he was no angel. He felt a pang of regret, for the child, it seemed, deserved so much better than he. She deserved someone who could guide her, when he could not even guide himself. He didn't know why he did it, but walked closer to the girl so that he lay very near her, her small hands caressing his head, not tugging and pulling as most small children do.

"They're not, generally, but I....." He tried so very hard to think up a good excuse, but found himself very tired, and could not focus quite right. It wasn't the heavy, terrible sleep he remembered from Hell, but a soft, intoxicating one, and he almost did fall asleep, when he felt something. This odd quickening of his heart, as though his soul were taking flight.

Quickly, he lifted his head and stared out the window. The falcon was gone.

"What's the matter?" Abigail asked him worriedly.

"The Spirit's on the move," he thought to himself, remembering the old song. "Oh, when I feel the Spirit moving through my heart....." He shook himself slightly, for it felt very odd, merely because it was something he could only experience when both were on Earth at the same time, and this had never occurred before.

"It's nothing," he denounced aloud. He then turned back to the girl. "Now, anything on your mind?"

The little child thought very hard. "No. Not really..... Oh! Can you read, Javert?"

Javert took another quick look out the window. It would soon be dark. "Yes," he replied, not taking his gaze from the window, privately daring the falcon to come again. So He didn't think he could do it, did He? He'd be sadly mistaken there.

"Can you read me one of the books on my shelves?"

Javert looked. He wanted to say yes – he felt his whole world contract into making her happy for a moment – but knew he couldn't do it. The books were all in brail, and he couldn't hold them anyway, for lack of thumbs. Curse his dog body. "I.... can't," he admitted slowly.

"The brail?" she asked.

"Yes, the brail." He decided to leave it at that. Suddenly, the golden head of long hair turned toward the hall way, hearing something. "What is it?" the black dog asked her.

"It's my mother. She's going to tuck me into bed now."

Abigail had already been bathed and groomed for night – her blue pajamas seemed to engulf her small body – but the telephone had wrung, and the child's father was not yet home from his business trip to Chicago, so Abigail had been instructed to play quietly, like a good child. It had been at this moment that Javert arrived.

And, of course, the child was right. Her lovely mother walked in, smiling, though Abigail could not see it, for the German Shepherd was not near the woman's face. "Ready for bed, sweet heart?" the beautiful woman asked, scooping up her beloved child and tucking her into her bed, which was at least five times the size of the blind child.

"Yes," she responded with a sleepy yawn.

"Which story would you like tonight?"

"No, Mommy, it's okay. My Guardian Angel will tell me one."

Naturally the woman took it for one of those innocent moments children always have, said alright, kissed the child good night, and left, turning off the light, the night light flickering on.

The child turned onto her stomach and peered over the edge of the bed, looking for Javert, who had remained on the floor, watching this strange – in his eyes – ritual which took place between mother and child.

"Well?" Abigail asked. "Aren't you going to come up and cuddle with me?"

Frankly, Javert was flabbergasted at the very idea. He was not a cuddly person by nature. But what was he to do, say no? "Alright," he stammered, leaping gracefully up onto the tall bed, the purple sheets not giving way beneath him, for he remained weightless.

The blond child now patted a place next to her to sleep, and with trepidation, the German Shepherd stepped forward, and sat down.

"What story will you tell me?" she now asked him. The clock work wheels in Javert's mind came to a screeching halt.

"Story?" he asked her. "I don't.... I don't really know any stories."

"Everyone knows a story," the child insisted. "It doesn't matter if I've already heard it. Just tell it anyway."

Javert blinked in the dimly lit room. What to say? "Ah...." He began, racking his brains. "Once upon a time, there was a police officer. A very brave," here he paused to cough, and deepen his voice "handsome police officer who everyone respected and obeyed."

"Boy, what world do you live in?" he thought to himself, but continued on with the story. "There was also this very bad man who was put in jail, and he tried to escape several times, but each time he failed. Finally, twenty years went by, and this police man-" Javert stopped, for Abigail had ceased to listen, having fallen into a deep slumber. He could leave now, if he wanted, yet something held him back from going, and for a few minutes he just sat there and watched the sleeping child.

He began to lie down beside her, and felt that heavy sleep once more cloud his brain, until he, too, slept, and remained dormant, until the nightmares started.

"Javert, wake up!" Abigail shouted, and it was only then that he was launched out of that terrible dream, his golden eyes wild, his mouth open as he panted with alarm. "You're shivering. Are you cold? Here," and now she lifted the blanket up. "You can snuggle with me."

He didn't move, his eyes still wide. How strange it was, to be comforted after a nightmare. He'd never done anything like this before. He was not allowed up on even _her_ bed.

Her.....

Good God, what was he doing here? How did this child spell bind him and keep him here, all thoughts of the person he loved above anyone else pushed out of his head.

"I can't," he lied. "I've..... I've got to go."

The tiny child looked a bit disappointed, but recovered quickly. "Alright. Will I see you again soon?"

"Yes," he said. "I promise," and began to get up, ready to jump out of the window and take his flight. But something held him back and he paused for a moment. Finally, he turned back to Abigail, and very quickly gave her a light kiss on the forehead before racing out the window.

...

Fire.

It was always fire, in those nightmares. He raced along the black streets, the wind pressing his ears to his head, the lamp light his only guide. He was running, but he didn't know where.

"Just run," echoed through his head. "Run and the nightmare's can't catch up to you."

Javert was always running.

He was panting, and sweating, shivering in the cold night air, when he came up to the park entrance, and would have simply raced on, probably to the stair way to Heaven, maybe some place else, had he not seen them.

They weren't anything extraordinary. They were just a pack of ghosts, smiling, laughing, sitting on the park benches, smoking cigarette's, their dog tails wagging merrily. Javert paused at sight of them, but still did not enter the park.

However, one, a collie, noticed him, and he called "Hey! What's your name?"

Javert stood stark still. He could always talk to other ghosts, but he wasn't terribly personable, and had always stuck to his own assigned pack. However, the pack was beckoning him to come and join them, so telling them his name was Javert, he walked in, his tail swishing at the fallen leaves.

One, a hound of some kind, offered him a cigarette, which he gratefully accepted, puffing on the thing ceaselessly, feeling his nerves calm as he smoked.

"What are you doing down here?" one, another hound, asked personably.

Javert flicked his ears back and said "Visiting a friend." It wasn't a lie, yet it wasn't a whole truth. Was Abigail his friend? She was certain he was her's.

"Me too," said a border collie happily. "I got a daughter down here. I died a couple years back in a car accident."

"I'm sorry," Javert said, flicking his ears back again, not used to discussing the subject of death. None of the other dogs seemed to mind.

"Don't worry about it," the collie said. "I'm a natural cause guy, myself. You?"

Javert stalled. Which death? Better to play it safe and go with the first one. "I.... drowned." He didn't dare tell them that it had been by his own hand.

The first hound whistled. "That's a bit painful, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Javert agreed, becoming more and more relaxed. "I mean, it felt funny, but I don't think it really hurt..... It was just.... Colorful."

"Colorful?" asked the second hound, skeptically.

"Yes," reiterated Javert. "As you drown, all these colors flash before your eyes. Reds mostly. Then they just sort of fade."

"Fade into what?" the border collie asked.

"Black. And then light once you're finally dead," he finished, taking another puff of the cigarette. "Thanks for the cigarette. I've got to go."

"See you around!" the collie called, waving to him as he left. It was one of the oddest conversations Javert had ever had, but he felt that the nightmare that terrified him no longer stalked him in the dead of night.

...

P.O.V

Javert

New York City, New York

Present Day: 2006

I wanted to go home, really I did. I just.... Couldn't.

Not physically couldn't. Nothing binds me physically. I felt something tugging me to keep walking, even if the nightmare was over.

So, deeper, and deeper into the park I walked, until I was certain that there was no one around for ages and ages.

That's when he showed up.

A yawning and exhausted Valjean stumbled out of the brush, knocking straight into me. He pulled back, blinked with surprise, and a few seconds later, his tired brain registered who I was.

"Monsieur Javert!" he cried excitedly. "What are you doing here? Ah, don't tell me. Coming to visit mademoiselle Leroux? And how is she?"

I must admit I'm surprised to see him. I'd forgotten he was on miracle duty. "No, I-" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Ah, sh, here she comes."

"Who?" I ask, befuddled.

The answer is a small, weeping child clutching a ragged stuffed toy. "Must go, you understand," he says quickly, dashing to her.

I sit there, absolutely still, blinking. What on earth is going on? Valjean has appeared before the girl, not saying a word, but she can obviously see him, for she begins to cease to cry, reaching out a small hand.

"Doggie?" she asks. He steps closer to her so she can hug him, still sniffling. "I wanna go home!"

Valjean then pulls away, turning on his heels and racing through the brush, leaving the girl to start sobbing. I stare at where he disappeared, absolutely befuddled, and stand up, not sure whether to follow him or comfort the girl. I'm not given the chance.

I can see flashlights through the darkness of the trees, and a man calling "Jessie!" And faintly, ever so faintly, I see a faint blue glow, and know it's Valjean, leading them to her.

Still I stand, and do not move.

"Daddy!" the girl is screaming, as she runs to the man who scoops her up. "I'm sorry! I promise I'll never run away again! Oh daddy!"

The rest of the words are lost on me as I stare, slack jawed, at the scene. Valjean, still looking tired, crosses over to me. "I would say that's a good night's work, oui monsieur?"

"Oui," I agree breathlessly. Finally, I turn to face him. He looks terrible. His eyes are bloodshot, and his fur's a mess. He needs to eat, and sleep, and _rest_. "Valjean, you look so tired," I tell him.

"Hm?" he asks sleepily, still smiling at a job well done. "I suppose I do, don't I? How's Cosette?"

"She misses Marius."

"Ah. Well, the shift will be over in about a day. I can survive."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I won't die, I promise. However, I do not fall asleep if I lack coffee, unlike some people I know," he says jovially, glancing pointedly at me. I smirk slightly.

"I suppose you don't."

"We'll have to see another play soon. It's been a while since we've done that."

"You'll have to wake up first."

"Stop worrying about me!" he snaps playfully. "You don't exactly look awake yourself. Go home, go to bed!" he orders.

"I'm not tired!" I protest, but it does me little good, because I then yawn. He raises and eyebrow, points towards Heaven, and I dutifully march that way.

**To Be Continued.....**


End file.
